


Scorpions and Frogs

by XaviaAndromedovna



Series: Scorpions and Frogs [6]
Category: Crying Game (1992)
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the third time since they’ve known each other, they’re together in this bed.  For the first time, neither one is freaking out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorpions and Frogs

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Rookie Mistake

For the third time since they’ve known each other, they’re together in this bed.  For the first time, neither one is freaking out.

Fergus’s hand trembles ever so slightly as he pushes Dil’s robe off her shoulder once again, leaning down to bestow upon it the lightest of kisses.  He’s determined to do this right, which means facing his insecurities head on.

“You don’t have to—“

“I have to,” he corrects with another kiss.  He has to do this.

The robe falls.

He takes his time examining her body, getting used to the things that have changed since he left, and the things that haven’t changed at all.  Since she started hormones three years ago, her curves have filled out quite nicely, giving her a great rack and a delectable ass.  He reaches out and caresses her body so slowly, enjoying the choked off breath it draws out from Dil.

Her penis is smaller than he remembers, which is partially hormones and partially him exaggerating it in his mind for so long, the memory of that night simultaneously a nightmare and a wish.  He looks for permission in eyes that have been meticulously logging every muscle he moves.  They grant it with hopeful caution.

He shakily puts his hand on it.  It feels like skin.  They both let out a sigh; the difficult part is passed.

He slides his hands to her ass and pulls her closer so that her crotch is directly in front of his face.  When she puts her hands on his head— both for balance and for comfort— he reaches forward and places her in his mouth.

“Fuck,” she whispers.  He takes that as a sign to keep going.  As he tries to pull back, his teeth start to clamp down.  She hisses.  “Teeth!”

“Sorry,” he says after immediately pulling off.

She strokes his hair and pulls his gaze up to her amused chuckle.  “Not to worry, love.  Rookie mistake.”

“I’ll show you rookie,” he leers before taking her in again, quickly establishing a rhythm that soon has her panting above him.  It’s not his favourite feeling— certainly not something he’d do for anyone else— but it’s worth it to feel every inch of her entire being react to him so enthusiastically.  When she starts pumping back a bit, she pushes him off.

“Congrats, you passed,” she murmurs into the ear she’s hoisted to her lips.  “Now fuck me.”

“With pleasure.”  He pulls her down on top of him then flips them over, hungrily trailing kisses along eager skin.  Satisfied he’s covered every inch, he gets up and takes the lube and condoms off the dresser.  He taps her legs apart before sliding between them to meet her lips with his, hands working overtime to get her slick and ready.

The noises she makes as he puts the first finger in could probably get him arrested again for being so lewd, but that just eggs him on to put in another.  Not even ten seconds later, she comes with ragged breaths and minimal touching, liquid slicking his stomach.

While she rides out her orgasm, he puts on the condom and lines himself up.

“You ready for me?”

“I was ready seven years ago.”

He pushes into her with a moan.  “Bloody hell you’re tight.”

“Ugh, just move!”

“Yes, ma’am!”  He snorts when she smacks him, but he complies.

Before long he’s moving in and out of her, in and out of focus because it’s been a _long_ time since he’s done this, and she feels heavenly.  When he comes, it takes everything out of him, and he just flops down on top of her, lazily kissing her neck.

“I love you, Jimmy,” she mumbles playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, Dil.”  He smirks, because she knows he means it this time.

**Author's Note:**

> The Crying Game is not mine.


End file.
